My Lump, my Lump…Ode to the Lump

I can’t remember if it was a rabbit, a bear or some other animal species that the toy industry used as replicas to make these specific children’s cuddly stuffed animals.  But to this day I can still see the pink and white silky parachute material creature looming fuzzily in the back of my mind – I just can’t make out the details of its face.  The one feature of this popular late 80’s children’s toy that made it stand out from all the other stuffed animals of its time was how unusually light and fluffy it was.  I mean this thing was like squeezing air – it had to weigh near to nothing.

What is it you ask?

A Puff-A-Lump.

image via

The source of my wife’s nickname.

(Read my first post if you’re confused.)

One day, several years back, when Lump and I first started talking, for some reason I grabbed and squeezed the bicep area of her arm.  To my surprise it was the softest bicep I’d ever squeezed before – next to a newborn baby that is.  Just like a Puff-A-Lump, it was as if I was squeezing  air.  I mean she had no muscle mass whatsoever.  Jokingly, I said, “my gosh, you’re as soft as a Puff-A-Lump”…and so the nickname was birthed.  At first I called her Puff-A – until, I don’t know why, I just shortened it to Lump.  And so it is – 

Lump – my Lump  

the one I almost missed.

To say that Lump and I have lived different lives would be a gross misstatement.  We come from polar opposite spectrums of the carnal life.  I mean you’ve read (or hopefully you’ve read) the account of my jacked up conglomeration of a life.  Well for Lump’s imagine the complete opposite and you’ll get a pretty good idea of what I mean.  Lump never drank, smoked or dipped – nor ran with those who did (joke).  By the grace of God, she became a Christian at age four and never looked back.  Though she doesn’t boast of herself this way, to me she is the epitome of a godly woman.  Jokingly I tell people all the time that Lump is honest even when she is trying to be dishonest.  To say that I married up is an understatement. (Ok, that’s enough “I know’s” and “Amen’s” out there.)

Additionally, you may have noticed from her Facebook pictures that I’m slight (term used loosely) older than she is – so, therefore, us coming together is really nothing short of water being parted or bread falling from the sky.  When I first met her, she was just another person of many that I worked with in the Campus Pastor’s office at the university – but as time clicked on and I got to know and understand who she is, it slowly became clear to me – what many of you have known – Lump is one interesting person (especially her sense of humor – which for some strange reason I understood).

One day, shortly after we met, a few of the people I worked with as well as a few students were sitting around my office talking about this and that, when the subject of “where you are from” came up.  When it got to Lump, she explained that her parents were in ministry and they’d lived all over, but that she called North Carolina home.  She then went on to name a few of the cities and towns of the Tar Heel state that she’d once lived in.  One of those towns just so happened to be the quaint little southern town where I lived and recruited for the Air Force.  The kicker being – she lived there the same time I did.  And so, that small common denominator became the key that started our relationship.

The hidden treasure from my past had been revealed (see part 7).

To save you the boredom of a drawn out narrative concerning our dating experience, let me sum it up like this – we had more issues to work through than your average couple.  But it was good – it forced us to confront them and work through them together.  There were a few times we took a break to examine and pray about whether or not we should proceed.  One of those times near the end of our dating, I remember very clearly a conversation I had with a good friend of mine who lives up in the northern panhandle of West Virginia.  In the conversation, I was ranting and raving about not knowing what to do; I loved Lump and all, but I had also gotten to the point in my life that I was finally OK being by myself.  I was traveling and speaking at different events almost every weekend – I came and went pretty much as I pleased – I liked my life – I wasn’t sure I wanted to get married.

It was my friend’s next comment that stopped me dead in my tracks and arrested my indecisiveness.  In so many words he said, 

That’s all well and good, but I sure hear a lot of 

me’s and I’s in there.  Have you asked God what He thinks? 

 Lump may very well be the one God has to come alongside 

of you and walk out the purpose for your life.

I was speechless – I knew I had not – at least in that way.  And so it was, from that day on that I knew Lump was the one.  Oh how true that has become.

You can read every book at Barnes and Noble about forgiveness and commitment, obtain a head full of knowledge about them and still not truly grasp them until you’ve experienced them in your life.  Lump did not deserve what I did to her.  My self-centered and selfish behavior brought embarrassment and heartache to the very one that believed and trusted me to be the man of God she married.  I failed her miserably.  In the world’s opinion, if anyone ever had the right to be mad, hold a grudge, withhold their forgiveness and walk away from a commitment, she did.  But that’s not my wife.  Not for one moment, even from the beginning, did she ever use my wrong to her favor.  No, she showed her love by forgiving me and sticking by me. By experiencing her human forgiveness and commitment, I began to understand in a great way what God’s forgiveness and commitment were actually like. 

It’s amazing how He uses His children as instruments of His Big Love.

In a way – a big way – what Lump is enduring far outshines and outweighs what I’m experiencing.  I sit in jail due to my rebellion and sin.  I deserve to be here.  Yes, I’m persevering and making the best of where God has placed me, but Lump’s actions far surpass my pushing through.  Her attitude and actions model the life of a true Christian.  Although I shouldn’t be surprised – all of this coming from the woman that once told me that Mercy Me’s song Bring the Rain best described how she felt about her relationship with Christ.  At the time I’m sure she had no idea how heavy the downpour would be.  But she has not faltered nor waivered – no, on the contrary, she has dug in, stood firm in her faith and has let her light shine.  I tell her all the time that I think this mess is more about her testimony than mine – or perhaps it’s both – who knows – we’ll see.

I love you Lump! 

 You’re my most favorite person…and best friend.

Thanks for being you.

Big love!

…from the inside…ray-ray

 

Bring the Rain by Mercy Me

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You
Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times
So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of
The dark clouds that may loom above
Because You are much greater than my pain
You who made a way for me
By suffering Your destiny
So tell me what's a little rain
So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

Holy, holy, holy
Is the Lord God Almighty

From playmate to inmate…how I got here – Part 11

Boiling frogs, cross-eyed = “the fall”

Not too long after I was arrested in September of 2009, for going into someone’s home and taking their prescription pain pills, a former student of mine from the Christian discipleship program I used to work for called to see how I was doing. The grapevine does move rather swiftly. 

In the early days after my “fall”, I didn’t take many phone calls nor did I return many messages – I was ashamed and embarrassed (if I didn’t call you back…please forgive me) – but, this guy was persistent.  He left me several messages letting me know that he loved me, still respected me, didn’t care what I had done, and that he just wanted to talk about HOW this had happened, not the 4-1-1.  He went on to say that my fall had got him thinking about his own life, specifically about his relationship with God.  I appreciated the candidness and sincerity of his request.  I called him back.  

This would be the first of many times to come 

that I would witness God use the mess I created for His good.

True to his word, my friend didn’t probe me for details about my crimes.  He just wanted to talk about how I got to such a point of desperation that would cause me to do what I had done.  I explained to him, as I’ll now explain to you, that the onset of my fall started way before I committed my crimes, as well as how it was kindled by unresolved and covered up character issues.

I don’t know when or where I first heard it from, or from who I heard it from – or really, for that matter, why you’d want to do such a thing in the first place.  Perhaps it has something to do with cooking….or….perhaps not.  I may have heard it from one of my redneck buddies somewhere down the line  (no slam intended – merely a term of endearment; I think Lump may have a little redneck in her…or secretly wishes she did).  I don’t know.  I can’t remember, nor do I think the when, where and who are that important.  What is important is the process – the how.  The process of how one goes about…

boiling a live frog.

 image via

First of all, you can’t just throw a live frog into a pot of boiling water and expect the little fellow to stay in there.  Although frogs may not be considered to be the Einsteins of the animal world, they’re certainly not the bottom of the barrel when it comes to stupid.  If you throw a live frog into a pot of boiling water, more likely than not, he’s going to jump out – it’s only natural.  (Now, I know some of you observant brainiacs have already said to yourself,  “put a lid on the pot”…but for playing along purposes, pretend there is no lid.  Ok?...good.)  On the other hand, if you first put the frog down into a pot of room temperature water the frog will swim around – or sit there as some stubborn frogs do – enjoying his fresh dip in the H₂O that he is very much familiar with.  Next, as he settles in and makes himself comfortable, slowly turn the heat up on the water until it finally comes to a boil.  Completely unaware of the danger of the rising temperature, the soothing comfort of the familiar environment of the water will slowly lull the frog to the point of complacency.  Degree by rising degree, bubble after bubble, the heat from the boiling water will slowly suck the energy and zap the life from the unsuspecting amphibian until finally, unable to battle the smothering heat, our little leaping friend will leap no more.

A moral and spiritual fall are somewhat similar to boiling a frog.

I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to become addicted to pain pills again.  Like the frog, I slowly boiled myself in a pot of self absorption until I became cross-eyed – my focus became ME instead of God and others.

It all started with getting comfortable where I was.

Now, when I say comfortable where I was, I don’t so much mean location as much as I mean comfortable and complacent in regards to my spiritual life.  Some of you may not understand or agree entirely with this next statement – a statement based solely on my observation of other people’s lives as well as experiencing it in my own – but working in ministry at a Christian university can be one of the easiest and hardest places to grow in your relationship with God.  Bear with me and let me explain.

It can be easy because you are constantly surrounded by incredible worship, dynamic teaching and powerful experiences.  All of this taken in the correct context and applied with your own personal time of meditating and studying God’s word, growing in the wisdom and knowledge of Who HE is will lead to what He promises us – an abundant, free life.  But when the incredible worship, dynamic teaching and powerful experiences become the substitute and only source for spiritual growth, comfort and complacency can find a place to root in rather quickly.  This is exactly what happed to me – and with my past, this is not a healthy scenario.  I became unfavorably comfortable and complacent concerning my relationship with God.  It was like I flipped the auto-pilot switch on and allowed my ministry position and complete absorption in the activities of the university to become my sole source of material for personal spiritual growth.  I began to completely ignore my own personal time with God and rely entirely on being at numerous weekly services and experiences (that my position required me to be at) in order to keep me spiritually afloat.  

My eyes slowly turned inward 

– cross-eyed – 

the focus of my attention became ME.

Although those around me may not have initially picked up on it, I began to feel the change within myself.  I developed a very negative attitude.  The joy, peace and happiness I had experienced in my life began to be replaced with envy, jealousy and selfish desires.  I became condescending and sarcastic in my mind, not only towards people but towards Christianity all together.  I became very critical – a very dangerous place to be spiritually.  Like a parasite, my diminishing attitude drove me away from my community of believers.  I pulled away even further by relinquishing my responsibilities – specifically mentoring and teaching, two things that I loved very much.  Furthermore, just like I did as a child, I began to isolate myself, dissolving all accountability around me – self- centeredness soon gave way to selfish behavior.  Slowly but surely, just as the heat from the boiling water sucked the strength from the frog, my gradual pulling away from God left me cold, hard and ineffective spiritually.  I was primed for a relapse.  All I need was a good excuse – or a half- hearted one for that matter. 

My excuse came in the form of an injury and a trip to the doctor.  Knowing good and well that I shouldn’t accept the prescription for the pain medicine, pure selfishness kicked in and over road any logic that I had bouncing around in my head.  I remember telling myself “just this one prescription and that’s it.  Besides, I am injured and the doctor is giving them to me.  Yea, just this one and I’ll quit.” 

Yea right!

Addiction doesn’t’ work that way.  As soon as the beloved chemical hit my brain sending the all too familiar soothing, warm and fuzzy feeling to embrace my body – put a fork in me I was done.  Of course, one prescription led to another and another and then…well, you get the picture.  Active addiction had been resurrected, and it takes no prisoners.  Its goal is to win at any cost.  My tolerance level for the chemical picked up right where it left off and it quickly skyrocketed.  It was soon followed by the paralyzing fear of withdrawal.  I was spinning out of control.  Even I couldn’t believe how fast and far I had fallen as well as the depths of what I was willing to do in order to get what I needed (wanted).

Which brings me full circle – September 4, 2009.  The events of that day were really an end to something that was very close to taking my life, as well as the beginning to a whole new level of freedom.  

God heard my prayer…and He’s still answering it today.

When I started writing this blog series some three or four months ago, I had no idea what direction it would really go.  As I stated in my very first post, I simply began writing because I felt as if that was what I was supposed to do.  The cool thing is when I got to about part five or six in the series, I realized that God was using the blog to help me get brutally honest with my life and uncover faulty character issues.  I never imagined that I’d do this through a form of social networking.  I guess, in more ways than one, I’ve grown from this initial series of posts.  Who knows?...I may even open a Facebook account when I get out.  The end.

Thanks for reading this series!

Stay tuned.

Big Love!

…from the inside…ray-ray

From playmate to inmate…how I got here – Part 10

The Journey.

I wish I could vouch that from the time of my spiritual conversion on I never gave into the selfish corrupt nature I had fostered nor ever abused prescription pain pills again.  But obviously from where I sit today, you’ve most likely figured out that’s not the case.

No one ends up in jail on a winning streak.

I’ve heard testimonies of people who upon being regenerated by the Spirit of God never again picked up another drug or took another drink.  My journey is not that.  Do not misunderstand me…I fully believe the power of God can miraculously and instantaneously change a person to that degree.  In fact, I believe in the power of God so much that I believe, if God wanted to, He could wake me up tomorrow a one-legged Chinese man.  Further than that, I believe if God wanted to, He could wake me up tomorrow a one-legged Chinese man and make me believe I’d always been a one-legged Chinese man.  I guess what I’m trying to convey is that it’s been my observation, as well as my experience, that more often than not, when it comes to God molding and shaping His children, “the journey” most commonly contains a series of trials and errors – peaks and troughs.  The height, depth and extent of such are different for each person.  The miraculous aspect being that through these trials and errors, peaks and troughs, we children begin to personally know and understand the fullness of His grace, mercy, forgiveness, faithfulness, kindness, trustworthiness, truthfulness, and most of all – His BIG LOVE for us.  It will serve us well to realize – 

There is no “cookie cutter” journey –

yours is yours, 

mine is mine.

EMBRACE THIS.

As I wrote, in part nine of this blog series, when I truly came to BELIEVE in Christ, my life resembled a train wreck – train wrecks take time to clean up.  The rebellion of my youth had aided and produced a lot of hidden hedonistic behaviors that needed to be identified and dealt with.  All the various doors of pleasure and excitement that I had kicked open along the way needed to be addressed as well.  Not to mention the corrupt moral nature – used to appeasing itself whenever and however it wanted – needed to be corralled.  The years of a self-serving lifestyle had accumulated a myriad of hurts, habits and hang-ups (none of which God ever wastes) that only God could heal and straighten out.

Try as I may, the first few years of my journey out of addiction were riddled with relapses.  Although I sincerely did not want to live a life dependent on pain pills any longer, I continued to go back to what I knew would provide me with a sense of relief from everyday life as well as instant gratification – pain pills.  The problem was I’d lived in pill popping mode for so long that I didn’t know how NOT to live without them.  For nearly ten years, pain pills had been my comforter and counselor – my coping mechanism when I experienced unsettling feelings of insecurity or inadequacy.  Above and beyond that, they had been my recreation and everyday life enhancer.  My life was accustomed to revolving around the synthetic and pseudo pleasure that pain pills produced – nothing was fun without them.  And then one day…that mode of living was to be no more.

I was left holding the shattered remnant of a life 

frayed and mangled by addiction and very poor choices.

I didn’t know what to do.

I had lived in a chemically aided state for so long that I had literally forgotten how to live sober.  I had no coping mechanisms – pain pills were the extent of my coping skills.  I had no grasp on how to deal with life on life’s terms…and the pile of twisted wreckage that best described my life…are you kidding me?  I had not a clue of how to sort through it and begin to put it back together.

I needed HELP! 

Through a series of events I learned of a one year residential Christian discipleship program that assisted people with life controlling issues such as mine.  Though initially a year sounded like a long time to me, my inability to successfully stay off the pills and my immense desire to change nudged me to enroll in the program – so I did.  It was there that God met my effort and began to heal and repair the years of damage I had inflicted on myself.  How you ask?  By showing me Who He was through the Truth of His Word.  As He did this, I began to understand more and more of

Who God is – 

who I am – 

but most importantly, who I am in Him.  

As God began to renew my mind and heal my wounds, true life and the world we live in began to make more sense to me.

 

After graduating from the Christian discipleship program, I stayed on a few more years as a staff member.  I eventually left to take a position at a Christian university.  I sheepishly smile and chuckle to myself when I recall the prideful confidence I had in myself at various stages of my spiritual growth – thinking at times that I had matured fully and “arrived” as a Christian – completely unaware of the fact that there was much more refining that needed to take place.

The reality of this need became grossly apparent to me shortly upon arrival at the university.  Although in my mind I thought I’d reached the Super Bowl of Christianity, I quickly began to experience feelings of inferiority and inadequacy because of my past and background.  I felt as if I didn’t belong.  It didn’t take me long to figure out that I had not “arrived” and that this step along my journey was not the Super Bowl.  The truth of the matter was I really had only been transferred by God to another location of His school of life.  I had no idea how deep and revealing the curriculum would be.  God would use this new location as a giant x-ray machine – revealing to me faulty character issues that stealthily loomed below the surface.  

In the end I would have my opportunity to get brutally honest.

…from the inside…ray-ray

From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 9

The question and the COUNSELOR.

This is the shell of me shortly before the events below.

 

It’s a bitter pill to swallow when you are forced to look into the mirror of life and catch a glimpse of what you’ve become.  My love affair with pain pills had taken me places I never thought I’d go, enticed me to do things I never thought I’d do and make choices that even today are still sometimes unbelievably hard for me to understand.  I never set out to fail the way I had, and I certainly never desired to become the puppet of the addiction to pain pills puppeteer.  But that’s exactly what I had become.  The rebellion of my youth had culminated into despicable acts of self-centered sin and left me holding the bag of moral bankruptcy.

The words of a great friend of mine had never been more true:

“you’ll never find in sin what you are looking for.”

(What’s up Ritchie!)

My chemically aided fumbled search for love and acceptance had literally taken me into a desert wasteland of lostness.  I needed rescued.

It’s funny…but God’s search and rescue tactics don’t always take on the appearance we imagine they should.  Some 12 years ago, the onset of my “journey out” came in the form of a drug detox unit and a simple – but not so simple – question.  Although this was my first go at a detox, the question presented to me by one of the counselors was one that I had secretly pondered over and over in my mind.  In fact, it was one that had haunted me for several years.

As I walked down the hallway of the lock-down unit, I strategically kept to myself by avoiding eye contact with everyone I passed.  I was ashamed, embarrassed and downright beat up from the disastrous choices I had made to keep my pill addiction secret and afloat.  As if he’d been laying in wait for me to shuffle by, the counselor stepped from amongst the shadows into my path and asked how I was doing.  His unexpected presence startled me.

To me, this was a stupid question.  If it were not apparent to him that I was a complete mess, then obviously this man had chosen the wrong profession.  I gave him the typical brush off response – “I’m ok” – in hopes that he would retreat back to whatever office he crawled out of…but noooo…he wanted to talk…whether I wanted to or not.

I appeased him through his small talk questions but as the conversation proceeded I slowly began to sense that there was something different about this counselor compared to the others I’d encountered.  He didn’t care to dwell on the drugs or how much I had used of what or when I first started my drug escapade.  He seemed more interested in something completely different – ME – and where I was spiritually – specifically, where I was with God.

We muddled through the basic religious questions of what denomination I was, if and where I went to church, and if so how often, but the conversation took on another form when he asked “the question.”  With sincerity in his eyes, he looked at me and bluntly asked, 

“If you died today, do you know where you’d spend eternity?”

Caught completely off guard by his candidly delivered question, I now stood face to face with the very question that had haunted me for many years.  I felt as if I’d been exposed.  As long as the question was merely in my mind, I thought I could ignore it, file it away for another day (another year), but now that it had been vocalized by someone else and aimed directly at me - 

I could ignore it no longer.

Not willing to entirely concede my lostness, I quickly retreated to several of the topics we had already discussed.  I fumbled over my words, stammering and stuttering as I regurgitated religious sounding jargon such as –  I believe in Jesus; I never did any of these things with the intentions of hurting anyone; deep down I’m a good person; my parents are good Christians; they always took me to church; in fact, I even go myself, once in awhile.

When I had finished my unsuccessful rant, the counselor said in a very diplomatic but firm way –

“I didn’t ask you about your parents,

if you went to church,

or if you were a good person.

I asked you if you died today, did you know where you’d spend eternity?”

I COULD NOT ANSWER HIS QUESTION.

In all honesty, I had always considered myself a Christian – at the age of seven I had walked the aisle, said the prayer and was baptized shortly thereafter.  Although, truth be known, if you would’ve asked the people I went to school with, worked with and hung out with during my early adulthood, their response probably would have been something like this – 

Christian?!?! I didn’t even think he went to church!

Deep down I too knew something was amiss in my life.  None of my life resembled anything godly.  In fact, it was the complete opposite – I was the epitome of worldly.  My choices revolved around ME – what was good for ME – what felt good to ME – how this or that would benefit ME.  Additionally, aiding and abetting all of my catering to ME were the deceptive behaviors I had drug along with me from my childhood as well as all the doors of pleasure I had kicked open along my way.  The truth of the matter was -

I was as far away from God as one could be.

The conversation with the counselor lasted several more minutes but to be honest with you the only other thing I remember from our encounter was that he gave me a Bible and encouraged me to read it.  I was dazed and confused as I walked back to my room; my simple stroll down the hall had left my head spinning.  As I entered my room, I threw the Bible on the desk vowing not to read it.  

I was still gripped by my rebellion and pride, 

but war had erupted in my soul.

I remember rationalizing in my mind that I had gotten myself in to this mess and by gosh I’d get myself out of it.  I would not use God or religion as a crutch.  Oh how wrong my thinking was.

The war raged on throughout the night and into the early hours of the next morning.  I was tired and restless.  I felt like I could explode into a babbling ball of emotions at any point, but I would not relent.  Like a movie playing over and over in my head, I recalled failures and mistakes that I had made along my journey.  They were painful, and I did not like what I saw.  Occasionally, I would look over at the desk where I’d thrown the Bible earlier that day. 

It was like something inside of me was leading me to pick it up – just read it.  

Finally, I did!

It had been quite some time since I’d read the Bible…but for some strange reason it felt right.  It was like the words on the pages began to leap off at me.  As I read, all I kept thinking to myself was, “That’s me! That’s me! That’s me!”  Without realizing it I began to do something I hadn’t done for a long time – nor do I do that often – I began to cry.  Like ice disappearing in the sun - my cold, hard, calloused heart began to melt.  I knew that I’d been running from God.  No matter where I was or what I did, I’d felt His presence gently guiding and counseling me to give up for quite some time.  So it was there in a hospital bed, deep within the depths of the lock-down detox unit that I responded to THE COUNSELOR with three simple words – 

I give up!

I knew what I meant –

and so did God.

No amount of humanistic reasoning or rationalizing in my mind could trump the truth that I’d been living separated from God due to the sin in my life.  I needed the gift of God’s grace provided by Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection in order to obtain peace with God.  By faith that’s what I accepted.

I can – but I can’t – explain what happened to me that night – it was spiritually supernatural.  Unless you’ve personally experienced the regeneration that comes from accepting God’s gift of grace, any description of what happened internally to me will sound like mere foolishness.  Therefore, all I’ll venture to say at this point is that I felt different.  A strange soothing peace had enveloped me.  Although I had many self-inflicted wounds, a corrupt moral nature, as well as a host of problems to sort out, somehow I knew I was now on the right path.  My journey out had begun.

…from the inside…ray-ray